Cape Town!

I spent Easter weekend in Cape Town with Bethany, new Sarah, and our favorite Greek South African, Demetrios. School holidays were Friday and Monday, and the four of us took Tuesday off as well.

Cape Town is the second largest city in South Africa, second only to Johannesburg. Compared to P.E., only the 5th largest city in the country, it’s fairly large, but nothing compared to a city in the U.S. The main navigational problem we had was figuring out the direction we were facing. First of all, the city is built around a huge, flat mountain, Table Mountain. Looking at the two together, it’s the most beautiful, majestic picture you can imagine. However, the mountain wouldn’t be nearly as majestic without the city lights at the base, and the city would be nothing without the mountain towering above it. Cape Town is also at the base of Cape Peninsula, on the Western Coast of Africa (which meant we were facing the Atlantic Ocean for the first time here!). The mountain was (eventually) helpful in finding our way around, but, after being in Port Elizabeth for a few months, it’s intuitive that the ocean is south. In Cape Town, however, the ocean is east. We were disoriented pretty much the whole time we were in Cape Town.

We stopped halfway, at a little town called Wilderness, when it got too dark to drive. The highways don’t have reflectors on them in some areas, and it can be dangerous to drive at night. We had directions to go down a dirt road, cross the railroad tracks, and then turn at the sign. It wasn’t too bad until we see that we don’t just cross the railroad tracks- we drive ON the railroad tracks over a hundred meter bridge. Not only that, there is a mind-boggling sign that, to our best interpretations, says that cars are allowed, but not if you have phones, keys, cameras, or luggage inside. Also, one person cannot cross, but several can. Hmm. We bravely (and safely) make our way across the bridge and to the hostel. However, as we pull down the hostel’s long driveway, we hear a train whistle in the distance, making us realize that trains really do cross that bridge. Quite scary.


Friday

We arrived in Cape Town early Friday afternoon and drove straight to the waterfront. It was a busy, bustling weekend, with lots of craft stalls set up in the craft market and musicians playing on the sidewalk. Growing up in such small towns like Elizabeth and Gallipolis where you never see musicians on the street, I love listening to it. The girls and I had booked tickets on the Robben Island tour. I have never (that I can remember) been on a boat larger than a canoe (or maybe the “Titanic” we used to keep in our pond) and so I really enjoyed the 30 minute ferry ride. Robben Island itself is very small and flat, and not very exciting to look at from the shore. The cape used to extend past Robben Island, and it was part of the African coast. A few million years ago, the fields connecting it to the mainland became submerged in the ocean, and only the tiny flat Robben Island survived. Although parts of the island are beautiful and covered in green grass and trees, we disembarked to concrete slabs of wall on all sides. The facilities on the island have been used for lepers and as an insane asylum, and twice as a prison (once hundreds of years ago, and once far more recently). This is where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for a good amount of his 20-some years as a political prisoner. (Brief history of Nelson Mandela: he grew up in Apartheid South Africa and was educated as he was a member of the royal family and was to become an advisor, however, he rebelled, became a lawyer and a freedom fighter, and was jailed several times. The Apartheid government seemed to just pass more and more ridiculous laws to squash the increasing rebellions, and would re-arrest someone mere seconds after releasing them: because they passed a law allowing them to detain someone without a reason for 90 days. Anyway, Mandela was finally sentenced to life imprisonment, and sent to the prison on Robben Island, with many other political prisoners and even more common prisoners- although they were kept separate. He was moved to another prison near Cape Town in the late 80’s, finally released in 1990, and elected President in 1994 in South Africa’s first democratic election. If you want to read the biography of this incredible man, read Long Walk to Freedom: I read it to prepare for my Robben Island tour, and although it’s long, it’s definitely worth it.) So back to Robben Island. We first took a bus tour of the island, to see the various buildings and the lime quarry where the prisoners labored. There is a small cave where the prisoners would relieve themselves during the day. The prisoners took advantage of the fact that the white warders refused to even come near the cave, and used it to teach other. In fact, Robben Island was nicknamed “the University,” because the political prisoners created classes that they taught to each other and the general prisoners: these courses included histories of the ANC, of different types of government, and so on. One of the buildings we stopped by was the house that Robert Sobukwe lived in. He had been arrested early in the struggle, and when he was about to be released, the government passed the 90-day detention law that I mentioned earlier. Thus, every 90 days, he was released and re-arrested. He lived in a small house by himself, because the government didn’t want him mixing with the other prisoners. After our tour of the island, the bus driver dropped us off at the cells. We were met by our guide: an ex-political prisoner on the island. He had been arrested on several charges, including leaving and re-entering the country illegally (he had been smuggled abroad to train for the ANC’s “army,” the MK) and possessing weapons. He was in Robben Island for 5 years before he was released in the late 1980’s. He guided us through the different hallways, showing us the courtyard where Mandela spent much of his time, and finally, Mandela’s cell: a tiny, about 9 by 6 foot cell. The feeling of being in this place where so much history (and recent history, at that) has taken place is almost overwhelming. We had a few minutes to walk through several cells where actual artifacts were kept with stories about them from the prisoners. For example, there was a comb that took 2 years of requests for a prisoner to finally receive, and safety pins from another prisoner who used them to hold the blankets around his shoulders. The mind boggling thing about the island is the wildlife. They have springbok roaming around, which, okay, isn’t too exciting, but they also have PENGUINS. I absolutely love African penguins. They’re small and adorable. And on Robben Island, the penguins just wander the prison grounds.


Saturday

Saturday morning, we drove down to the Constantia area to visit the 3 wine farms in the area. On my map, it looks like it’s right in the middle of Cape Town, but it was actually very rural (to have miles of vineyards, it would have to be). The first one we visited, Groot Constantia (meaning “big Constantia,” Dem got a kick out of our American accents trying to pronounce “groot”) was very nice: for R15 (about $2.50), we were able to “taste” 5 wines of our choice and even keep the wine glasses! The friendly employee filled our glasses about halfway, and invited us to have a seat on the huge leather couches spread throughout the room to enjoy our wine. We were the only people at the winery at that time, so we had the place to ourselves. The other two wineries were nice as well, and their tastings were free, but also much more crowded with our tourists. Dem had further enjoyment listening to us Americans trying to pronounce “Buitenverwachting” (it’s “bait- in- fer- vahk- ting”). Towards the end, when we were all feeling a little light-headed, we finally caught on that we should be taking a few sips and then dumping out the rest of the wine. I was enjoying myself so much, though, that I bought 3 bottles, not realizing that when I return to P.E., I only have a week to enjoy the wine before I fly out.

Saturday afternoon we had planned to climb Table Mountain, but we realized that it’s a fairly strenuous climb, and we were sure to get dehydrated, so we chose to nap instead. We got up in time to drive up to Signal Hill, near Table Mountain, overlooking the water, and watch the most amazing colors as the sun slowly sank into the water. As it was the Saturday before Easter Sunday, there was a church group singing and dancing at the top as well. We ventured back into the city to an upscale jazz restaurant called Marimba, where I enjoyed the most tender steak I’ve ever had as we listed to an African jazz band. What struck me about the restaurant when we walked in was how many black Africans were eating there. In most of Cape Town, we had eaten at restaurants and visited places where the majority of people were white. It was kind of shocking to finally see a black majority, and it was shocking again to realize that I was shocked. I shouldn’t be surprised to see a black majority in a country where the majority is black, and yet I was. Despite the government’s efforts to integrate, the country is still very divided. For example, you don’t see white laborers. You don’t see white maids. And the majority of professionals are white Africans. On the tourist roads like the garden route, you only pass a major township once (and that’s in 8 or more hours of driving!).


Sunday

Sunday (my birthday and Easter!) we got up early to drive down the Cape Peninsula to see the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point (you may remember this from the explorers unit you did in middle school history class). We stopped in the naval town of Simonstown to visit, what else?, the South African naval museum, where we climbed around in a submarine replica, before driving a few hundred meters to Boulders, where the African penguins hang out. They jumped from rock to rock, waddled down to the water, did a few dives, and came back to frolic on the rocks again. Again, let me say how much I adore African penguins.

Another animal that seems to be everywhere in South Africa is the baboon. I’m sure I’ve written about the signs along the roads telling you not to feed the baboons (it’s a 500 rand fine if you do). However, I’d never really seen more than one or two hiding in the bushes or scampering across the road until the road down the Cape Peninsula. At a scenic vista pull-off point along the highway, we saw a huge troop of baboons just hanging out on the guardrail. They were walking along, sitting there, and fighting over a baby baboon (one of the baboons grabbed the baby’s arms and tried to pull him away from his mother- don’t worry, the mother won). Bethany pulls out her camera to take a video of these amazing (and yet dangerous) animals. Now, although the signs along the road say to keep windows up when you’re around the baboons, it was a hot day and we didn’t think to put our windows up. As Bethany is leaning towards the window with her camera on, the baby-stealing baboon suddenly jumps down from the guardrail in a threatening move, straight towards the car. I’ll let the video speak for what happened next: all you hear is screaming and all you see is a window rapidly closing, as the camera jostles and turns off. Trust me, as scary as the moment was at the time, this video provided hours of entertainment during car rides for the rest of the weekend.

After being attacked by baboons, the rest of the drive down the cape was pretty non-eventful. After paying a hefty entrance fee to the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point, we drove down to what is billed as “the Southernmost tip of Africa.” The Cape of Good Hope is actually the first time I had ever heard of South Africa (although I didn’t know it was in South Africa at the time): in middle school, we had to remember where it was that the famous explorers Diaz and de Gama rounded the tip of Africa on the way to Asia. It’s also the meeting point of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, creating a very interesting and diverse marine life (the Indian Ocean is very warm, and the Atlantic is very very cold at this point). We hiked up a paved, tourist-friendly path and lots of stairs to the Cape Point lighthouse, where you can see out over the ocean from Cape Point. When I was in my 6th grade history class, I never would have even imagined that on my 22nd birthday, I would be standing at that very place. Sir Frances Drake once described the cape as “the most stately thing and the fairest cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth,” which I think describes it pretty darn well.

We made it back to Cape Town in time for an evening picnic at the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens: one of the must-do’s for Cape Town. If you know me, you know that I love walking through gardens and parks, enjoying the diverse plant life and laying in the cool, lush, green grass. So you can probably tell that I loved the Kirstenbosch gardens. We barely even walked through a fraction of the park, and I’m sure I could spend days wandering the paths and sitting by the little ponds and streams and under the towering trees. We had a picnic of bread, cheese, mango, and wine, (as well as a surprise birthday cake for me!) as we sat on the grass with Table Mountain towering behind us. It couldn’t have gotten any better. We chose a spot next to a giant yellowwood tree with an interesting story: the legendary and beloved tree had been split in half and blown over in a violent wind storm last year. However, the faithful gardeners covered the exposed roots with soil and roped off the small area, giving it space to heal. Miraculously, the tree (the only type of tree in Africa able to do this) has begun sprouting new life from the toppled trunk, growing little green shoots up towards the sun. It is such a hopeful and inspirational thing to see.


Monday

We woke up early hoping to climb (or at least take the cable car to the top of) Table Mountain, but, alas, the clouds and strong winds made that impossible. Instead, we spent the morning at the 2 Oceans Aquarium and shopping at the waterfront, and the afternoon visiting the winefarms of the neighboring towns of Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch. There are at least 120 vineyards in Stellenbosch alone. Since we had such a large choice, we were quite selective about the places we visited for tastings. We started with a dual wine and cheese tasting, before stopping at a welcoming winery where we sat at deep wood tables next to brick walls, while our personal server told us about each of the wines we were tasting. I must have been feeling pretty brave, because on the way down the long driveway, when we noticed the bunches of grapes hanging off the vines mere feet from our car, we convinced Dem to stop the car just long enough for me to jump out and rip one of the bunches from the vine (the darn things hold on pretty tight) for us to munch on in the car. (They were pretty good grapes, too). We continued on the road to Franschhoek, where we got some delicious homemade chocolates at a Belgian chocolate factory before stopping at the winery that specializes in sparkling wines. We had a quick tasting and looked down at the rows and rows of bottles in their cellar, which are turned every day for a month until the yeast is gone. The yeast and the sugar, and the turning of the bottles, somehow combines to give the wonderful fizz that we tasted.

After this tasting, we were on a mad dash to Stellenbosch, the most famous wine region, so we could quickly visit one vineyard before they all closed at 5 PM. We found one where the woman was counting down her register but agreed to give us a quick tasting for free. We repaid her by purchasing a few more bottles.

Back in Cape Town, we dined at Mama Africa, a trendy restaurant with live music and genuine African food. For the first time, I was able to try mealie (made from corn), and samp and beans (traditional food eaten for almost every meal by Africans). I also had crocodile (not my favorite, but edible), springbok (yummy), kudu (kind of tough and game-y), and ostrich (kinda chewy but very healthy and not too bad).


Tuesday

Tuesday was our last morning in Cape Town before the long 8 to 9 hour drive back to Port Elizabeth along the Garden Route. We had heard that the weather was supposed to be windy and cloudy again, but we crossed our fingers and said a little prayer the night before, and, miraculously, woke up to a clear blue sky. We had about an hour wait to buy the tickets and get on the cable car, but we befriended a German couple in line in front of us, which helped to pass the time. We also learned that hiking up the mountain is not recommended right now, as it’s extremely dangerous due to loose rocks and timber from a recent fire. Good thing we didn’t try to hike up on Saturday. Finally, we made it into the cramped cable car for the (fairly quick) ride up the face of the mountain to the top. The views were breathtaking, but again, the paths along the top were paved and teeming with tourists. Since we had to hit the road, we didn’t stay too long.

The rest of the day was spent in the car, on the long (albeit beautiful) drive back along the N2 highway, also known as the Garden Route. We drove through mountains, along the ocean, and through the Tsitsikamma forests. We stopped for a seafood dinner in Jeffrey’s Bay (big surfing area!) at a charming restaurant that was built on the beach: literally, on the beach, with no floor other than the sand beneath our toes.

And suddenly, I’m back at home in P.E., with one short week until I have to leave behind the good friends I’ve made and the restaurants and coffee shops I’ve come to love.